


Blade of Brooklyn

by fxns



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, More warnings may be added, Race tries to help, Self Confidence Issues, Self Harm, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Spot hates himself, Trigger Warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxns/pseuds/fxns
Summary: Spot Conlon never lets anyone know how he feels. Besides, only girls felt the way he felt about himself, right?He couldn't have been more wrong.Trigger Warning for the entire book, read at own risk.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a prologue, so the chapter is very short. The next chapter should be longer!
> 
> Please let me know if you have any feedback, I'd love to hear.

It all started the day Spot Conlon really looked at himself in the mirror. He’d never really had time before, always chasing after the boys, making sure they didn’t pick fights they couldn’t handle. His life was one mess after another, trying to maintain what little sanity he had left when he was with his boyfriend. Not that having a boyfriend was better on him, it was the year 1899 after all. Gay men were killed, or worse, just for being themselves. 

 

Spot stopped one evening, gazing at his reflection on the dirty surface. The full-length body mirror showed everything of him from head to toe, the dirt screwing some of the image. 

 

His arms were big and bulky, something he definitely knew about. But everything else seemed… off. His chest puffed out, his stomach protruding about an inch out over his belt. It was all muscle, but to others it may appear as fat. His legs were big too, his belt on the loosest notch it would go, the fabric tight on his body. Logically he knew his belt was small for him, but that didn’t stop this. His body appeared disproportionate to him.

 

Spot had heard he was fat before, the Brooklyn and Manhattan boys found it a good soft spot for him. It was something he would never admit, but he really did have a body insecurity. He hated everything he had pointed out, but he especially hated the fact he was wider than all his boys. They were all thin and starved, their ribs poking out through their shirts. 

 

He knew it was wrong to be envious of those boys, they would probably kill to have gotten enough food to look like him. But, that didn’t stop tears from forming in Spot’s eyes, threatening to fall from his eyelids as he lifted his shirt to look at his body in the mirror. A gasp escaped his lips, tears spilling down his cheeks. 

 

Spot pulled his shirt back down, splashing water in his face. He looked back in the mirror to make sure it looked like he hadn’t been crying before leaving the bathroom. Business returned as normal for Spot Conlon, it was like nothing had happened.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings apply, read at own risk!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of this chapter! It's a bit deeper than the prologue...
> 
> Also, I tend to write shorter chapters, just as a heads up!

Race lay in his boyfriend’s bed, his curly hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. He couldn’t help but pant, exhausted from an intense make out session with Spot. They would have gone further, but Spot denied it, claiming he had gotten hit in the ribs the other day and wanted to give it some time to heal.

The truth was, Spot didn’t want Race to see how fast he was underneath his shirt. It was what, to him, felt like a juvenile request. Spot always felt like he was disappointing Race when he turned something down, his own self doubt and hatred taking over his mind. The past couple of weeks had gotten bad, ever since he really looked at himself in the mirror. 

Currently sitting on the edge of the bed, Spot looked down at Race, giving him a fake smile. Race almost giggled, snaking his arms around his boyfriend, frowning with his body tensed like he had been poked. 

“Woah, you okay, Spot?” Race asked, his voice soft, his lips trailing up Spot’s next to his jawline. A heavy sigh escaped Spot’s lips, a sigh of pain and what seemed to be frustration. 

“I’m fine Race.” Spot moved his boyfriend’s hands off his body, standing up from the bed. He didn’t go far, only to the bunk across the room. He could feel the ghosts of Race’s hands against his skin, the feeling alone made him want to vomit. Shudders ran down his spine, foot tapping anxiously on the ground. 

“You ain’t fine Spot, this isn’t normal for you. Something’s up, you’re not yourself.” Race insisted, his voice coming out stronger than he meant. Spot almost cowered onto the bunk. 

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, truly.” Spot shot back, unable to look his boyfriend in his baby blue eyes. Although he resisted, tears began to form in his eyes once again, sniffles in his nose. Dark hair swept onto his forehead, awkward tension hanging in the air. 

“I don’t want to push, but-” Race began before his voice was harshly cut off. 

“Then don’t push. Nothing is wrong. Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten yet today.” Spot tried to brush it off, especially as his stomach rumbled. It was true, he hadn’t eaten that day, but not unintentionally. 

Spot’s days had become filled with watching what he ate and eventually just not eating at all. The only time food passed his lips was when the boys grew suspicious of his stomach rumbling. Even then, the food never stayed down for long, the feeling of being full disgusted Spot to his very core. Yet, his stomach didn’t shrink yet, just ached as his body yearned for food. 

“You feeling sick or something?” Race asked, moving to sit in a chair beside Spot. 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Spot admitted a bit, relaxing as Race put his cool hand onto his forehead. 

“Well, you don’t got a fever. Why don’t I get you a big dinner and we can just snuggle together here? Sound good?” Race suggested, keeping his voice low. The Brooklyn boys were beginning to return home, they didn’t need to know all that Spot and Race were up to.

Spot felt his heart sink inside his chest, he swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yeah… yeah that sound great.” He agreed, putting on a fake smile. He wasn’t acting himself at all, this wasn’t normal one little bit.

“Alright, you wait here and I will be right back.” Race moved his dark hair from his temple, planting a soft kiss on his skin. He sauntered off, being sure to sway his hips, a smirk forming on his lips. Spot was looking away, staring down at his feet. 

The instant the door latched shut, Spot started to poke and prod at his stomach, examining it closely. He thought about the food that would be going into it. Mentally and physically he felt sick, completely disgusted. But on the other hand, his body yearned for food. A mental war broke out, two sides of Spot’s brain fighting with the other.

Minutes felt like hours until Race returned. He was balancing two bowls of soup and three bread rolls on a tray, two apples starting to roll against the sides. “I could’ve gotten more, I know you like to eat.” Race smirked, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Yeah, I love food.” Spot lied, surprisingly convincing. He started to eat, his hands beginning to shake violently. 

Picking at the bread, Spot eventually got into the swing of it, his body craving more and more food. He ended up devouring the entire bowl of soup and two bread rolls, starting on the apple. He ate so quickly his brain hardly had time to process what had happened. 

“Woah, slow down. If you eat like that you’ll start putting it on.” Race teased, meaning no harm with his joke, but it caused Spot to stop in his tracks. His heart was pounding in his chest, tears pricking his eyes as he tried to push the feelings down. 

“Putting what on?” Spot asked quietly, his voice sounding almost broken. Race laughed, not noticing the effect his words had on his boyfriend. 

“Putting on weight. I mean, come on, if you eat like that I’ll have more of you to handle.” He winked, his own self arrogance making him ignorant. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re right, I have been putting some on.” Spot openly said, his lip beginning to quiver. Defeated, he set the apple down, moving to sit back on the bunk. Race continued to happily eat like nothing had happened at all. “You should start back to Manhattan, it’s getting dark.” 

“Yeah, that would be good idea, I don’t need Jack blowing his top off.” Race set his empty dishes aside, wrapping an arm around Spot. Spot bit his lip as hard as he could to keep himself from breaking down right then and there. 

“Love you.” Spot whispered, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek, running a hand through his curly hair. 

“I love you too, you can come to me with anything, you know that right?” Race reminded him, going the window to go down the fire escape. 

“I know, I will.” Spot smiled, leaving the room as Race climbed out the window. He ran to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. Air refused to enter his lungs, panic resided inside of him. 

Hesitantly, Spot kneeled down in front of the toilet, his hands trembling as he shoved his fingers down his throat. It took some time to find the right place in his throat before he gagged, throwing up all he had eaten with Race. A sick sense of relief flooded over his now pale and sweaty body, his throat burning. 

Pain was starting to be the only calming sense in Spot’s body, something that scared him deeply. But at the moment, that didn’t matter. His vision began to grow black as he lost consciousness, the last image in his mind a single, clean razor blade on the floor, sparking a new dangerous idea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them in the comments. I love to hear from everyone :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings apply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like the update! Feel free to give me ideas of what you want to see next! Sorry it's short, I tend to write shorter chapters and longer books. 
> 
> Everything in italics is Spot's thoughts.

Spot Conlon sat in front of the full length mirror in the bathroom, cross legged in front of the reflective surface. A single razor blade sat on the floor in front of him, a single candle lighting up the small quarters. The only other source of light was the full moon outside, casting a dull shadow against Spot’s body.

The Brooklyn newsie didn’t have a shirt on, exposing his torso to himself. A new shirt sat beside him, this one with long sleeves, sleeves that would cover his new bad habit if he followed through with it. Spot’s dark hair was disheveled, a deep breath echoing in the quiet. 

He had spent the last several days in the same routine, the same destructive habit over and over again. Each day he didn’t eat unless he was with Race or the boys. When he was with them, he binged a lot of food and just threw it all up later. Race didn’t seem to catch on that Spot was going through a hard time, especially when it came down to food. His boyfriend teased him occasionally about his weight, especially when he saw him eat like a horse. 

It was one of those rare times where everyone else in the lodging house was asleep or down at the docks, it was just Spot alone with his thoughts, no one to disturb him. 

_ Fat. How can you even look at yourself? You’re disgusting, you can’t see your ribs, that’s horrible. Race shouldn’t love you.. He shouldn’t even like you.  _

Spot shook his head, his thoughts slowly beginning to drown him. His hands shook slightly, fingernails bitten down to the stubs from anxiety. The razor-blade still sat in front of him, taunting him dangerously.

Spot’s skin was pale from having thrown up his large dinner with Race again, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He was beginning to feel numb, like there wasn’t too much left for him to do in this world and this life. Sure, he had Race, but even his own boyfriend was beginning to recognize how fat he was.

_ What the hell is wrong with you? Lose some weight. _

His voice echoed inside his head like a dome of hatred, yanking him down into a pit of depression and despair. Spot’s hand shook as he pinched the skin over his ribs. He took a deep breath, sucking in his stomach as far as he could.

_ It’s still not far enough. God, how could you let this happen to yourself? _

Spot began to cry for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Tears stained his cheeks as the salt water rolled down his face, his stomach churning. The blade continued to sit in front of him, taunting his tears in the candle light. 

_ It could solve all of your problems. You didn’t plan and get this shirt for nothing… you planned to cover up scars, so why not just do it? _

Spot’s voice continued to chant inside his head, eventually leading him to grab the blade without another thought. Before he could even blink, two fine lines were cut across his wrist, beads of blood forming on the skin. His wrist stung, silent sobs wracking through his body. 

This time, more slowly, he brought the blade back up to his wrist. The third line, this one with more pressure than the other times, took longer to create. His skin broke apart, blood began to flow faster out of his abrasion than the last two. 

Spot gasped out in pain, pulling the blade aside, setting it down on the floor again. Loose bandages were across the room, flung next to the dirty sink. He turned on the water, putting pressure onto his three burning wounds. Gasps in pain continuously escaped his lips, the blood flow slowly stopping.

The last thing Spot did was wrap his arm in the bandages, slipping on his new long-sleeve, baggy shirt. The red fabric didn’t cling to him like his other shirt did, it hid his body, the body he was disgusted with. 

Exhaustion began to take over, pulling the Brooklyn boy down as he walked off to his room, shoulders hunched. He curled up onto the bed, wiping his tears with the thumb of his uncut arm. 

_ Maybe now Race will love me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Or if there is any ideas you have or would like to see... thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really not good... I'm so sorry! I've had some writers block with this story recently. I have ideas, but can't find the right words to describe them.
> 
> Trigger warnings apply.
> 
> Enjoy anyway!

It took a couple weeks since the beginning of everything, but now Race Higgins could tell something was off with his boyfriend. The way Spot looked at him, the way his eyes no longer shown, the way his stomach would suck in when Race looked at him. He began to wear this long sleeve shirt, a red striped one that was way too big on his body. White, tan bandages covered the inside of his arms, claiming it was just a fight gone wrong.

 

But, that wasn’t nearly the case at all. Spot had only been cutting himself for two days, but there was already several marks across his forearm. He had stopped eating, only letting food in to then throw it back up later. He had lost a little weight, but nothing noticeable. 

 

“Spot, we need to talk.” Race blurted out, sitting beside his boyfriend on the bed. He had noticed more than Spot realized.

 

“What, uh, what about?” Spot asked, his voice shaking. A million thoughts ran through his head, tearing him down. 

 

_ He’s leaving you because you’re not skinny enough. He’s leaving you because you don’t punish yourself enough. He no longer loves you because you’re just a screwed up, fat- _

 

“Are you listening?” Race asked quietly, placing his hand on Spot’s. Spot looked over, tears forming in his eyes. “Woah, that’s not like you at… Spot what’s happening?”

 

“Nothing, nothing is wrong.” Spot insisted, taking a shaky breath. 

 

_ You should tell him. If he feels the same way, maybe he can help you get to your desired place. But, he might leave you… _

 

“Bullshit.” Race spoke sternly, much harsher than he meant. “You’re not confident anymore, you’re not happy anymore, you don’t even have any interest in me anymore… You hide your arms like something is wrong, you have a lot of bandages each time I see you. You get sick after you eat… what’s going on?”

 

Spot could feel his heart stop when Race rambled on, taking in a shaky breath. “I’m fine.” He gasped, starting to pick at his fingernails. 

 

“Spot Conlon, please, I want to help you.” Race insisted, kneeling down in front of Spot so he could see into his brown eyes. “Please let me in, I won’t judge you.”

 

“Will you help me lose weight?” Spot asked quietly, not able to look his boyfriend in his light blue eyes. He looked taken aback, leaning back against his heels. 

 

“Lose weight?” He asked, surprised by the question. “Why do you want to lose weight? If you want to, you can, I wouldn’t mind… but you don’t have to.”

 

_ Way to go, he wants you to, you’re way too fat. Even Race wants you to drop a few. _

 

Spot sniffled, nodding his head slowly. “I want to lose a lot… I need to lose a lot, I don’t just want to, I have to.” He insisted, his voice cracking.

 

“Spot… how much is a lot?” Race’s voice broke, moving to sit beside him on the bed again. Spot sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand quickly. Race had seen something like this before, he wasn’t totally ignorant to the topic, but he didn’t quite know how to help.

 

“I don’t really want to-”

 

“Spot. How much is a lot?” Race demanded to know, this time putting a stern lock in his voice. 

 

“Thirty, forty pounds…” Spot stood up, starting to tremble violently. He watched as Race’s face fell into one of fear, but it felt like disgust. “I’m sorry Race, I can’t do this right now. You should go home.”

 

“Thirty or forty pounds?! Are you blind?!” Race exclaimed, standing up as well. He moved towards the window, having every intent to storm out. 

 

“No! I am not blind!” Spot defended himself, tears sprouting in his eyes. “I’m fat and depressed, but I ain’t blind.”

 

“Fat and depressed- are you kidding yourself?!” Race shouted, stepping backwards again. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re fine!”

 

“Race, just go. We’ll talk later.” Spot gave up, backing down from a fight. More red flags shot up in his boyfriend’s mind, worry filling his entire body. But he couldn’t help but be very frustrated.

 

“Damn right we will talk later.” Race growled, going out of the window. He was absolutely livid, storming his way back to the Manhattan Lodging House. 

 

Spot felt his world collapsing around him, nothing made sense to him anymore. He ran off into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

 

By the time he was finished, he was just clinging to consciousness, thinking of all the times he screwed up Race. 

I fucked it up again, he should leave me. Or I should leave him… indefinitely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I need some tips or ideas... so feel free to comment what you hope to see!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Race finds out the truth..
> 
> All warnings apply!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I haven't updated!! I've had massive writers block, but I'm trying to get back into it now. I hope this chapter is enjoyable :)  
> It's short, but I'll get there.

Race walked back to the Manhattan Lodging House, kicking rocks as he went. He paused and turned around several times, trying to decide whether or not he should go back. On one hand, he was pissed at Spot for what he had said. Forty pounds? He wanted to lose _forty_ _pounds_? But, maybe Race had been too harsh on him. He couldn’t decide. Depressed? Since when was Spot depressed? He had noticed a lot about his boyfriend, but these thoughts never crossed his mind.

In the end, Race turned around and started to head back to the Brooklyn House. He wanted to talk to Spot, to get the proof he needed. All he wanted to do was help his boyfriend anyway he possibly could. But forty pounds? That was insane. Spot had a little over his belt, but it was nothing that was even remotely unhealthy. With his bone structure it was normally. Yeah, he was bigger than the other boys, but they were younger.

Spot had gone downstairs, sitting with the boys. A couple walked over, singling him out. “Hey Spot, we wanted to have some dinner but all the food was gone. Go on a pig ramage again?” They teased, seeing him flinch, knowing it got to him.

“Yeah, I had some of it. The other boy’s must’ve had the rest.” Spot lied, his eyes looking down at the ground. The truth was that he had ate the entire thing, but he just made it come back up again.

“Well we were hungry and your disgusting, round-stomach, fat ass self couldn’t-!” The boys didn’t get to finish before Race punched them across the face. Spot leapt up, taking this as an escape as he ran up the stairs to the bathroom.

Spot’s hands spread out on his stomach, pushing down and pinching it. He grabbed any small rolls he had, starting to break down all over again. Falling to his knees over the toilet, Spot made himself sick again even though he had nothing in him. He grabbed his blade and rolled up his sleeves, the vicious cycle starting all over again.

Race stormed up the stairs when he finished with the boys, his knuckles bleeding, some of his fingers probably fractured. Tears of anger welled in his eyes, but he tried to cool his temper as he walked to the bathroom, hearing Spot inside. He paused, listening for a moment to hear a harsh whisper.

“He had to protect you… he won’t love you… you’re so fat… you deserve all this that’s coming… maybe you should disappear..” Spot mumbled to himself as he made line after line on his arm, each one getting deeper as he went.

Race didn’t even bother to knock, he just forced the door open and closed it behind him. The instant he saw Spot, he felt like his entire world stopped. Seeing his boyfriend pale and sweaty, blood running down his arms… it snapped his heart in half. “Spot… oh god Spot…” He whispered, dropping to his knees, starting to tremble.

Spot dropped the knife, the metal clanging on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Shame overwhelmed his body as he fell back from his knees to the bathtub with a loud thunk. Slouching against the tub, he started to break down crying louder. Finally, he managed to speak. “I just want to be happy with myself…” He sobbed, his voice sounding sad, breaking with every word.

Race didn’t know quite what to do, so he just sat beside Spot, leaning back against the bathtub. He snaked his arm around Spot’s waist, pulling his boyfriend into his lap, petting his hair slightly. “Shhhh, Spot.. just try and breathe..”

It took some time before Spot finally calmed down, letting Race bandage his arm. Race pulled him up and brought him to his room, locking the door and cradling him in bed. “Okay, now start talking, please…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any feedback, suggestions, or just want to flatter me... leave a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope to see you at the next chapter!   
> If you have anything to say, please let me know!


End file.
